Within Breaking Distance
by AzureEroe
Summary: To those who know Batman personally, the air of mysteriousness and continued secrecy is concerning, especially when a nasty run-in with Scarecrow leaves the Dark Knight paranoid and broken. Robin and Superman both struggle to help in any way they can, looking for ways to uncover hidden chapters of Bruce Wayne's life before his mind falls apart...
A/N: I've wanted to write a SuperBat fanfic since time began. So of course I eventually decided to write something the day before my two week spring break _ends._ I'm a fabulous planner, yes, hold your applause. I'll throw a prologue at you to begin with, just to set the mood of the fic.

TW: Depression, anger, scars , phobias, homophobia, swearing, panic attacks, canon-typical violence – if any of these things make you uncomfortable please don't read my fanfiction.

Yes, this is boyxboy, aka, Homosexual relations between two men. Don't like, don't read.

DICLAIMER! - I do not own Batman, Superman, or any other DC Nation characters used in this work.

Chapter 0: PROLOGUE

Bruce could remember hating each and every single one of them with a sort of restrained kind of resentment. It wasn't too terribly strong, and yet, he felt like punching those pitying smiles right off of their fucking faces.

It's been a year since he'd lost his parents. To that no good _lunatic._

He'd heard Alfred muttering under his breath one morning about how 'it's simply a tragedy that at your tender age you've lost so much optimism.' Bruce's knuckles were strained in a pale white death grip on his tailored tuxedo, crumpling up the expensive fabric in shaking palms. He'd had so much hope when that man had faltered, looked almost relieved when his father gladly offered up a large sum of money, if only to protect his family. Then it just happened. The man shot twice, a hysterical glint in his beady eyes, leaving an eight year old Bruce in soul-crushing shock.

But he's nine now. Almost ten, and as far as Bruce was aware no one even remotely _understood_ how he felt. No amount of screaming and wailing penetrated the thick indifference that radiated off of all of these snobbish, rich stuck-ups. For all of the comforting he's given ( that was very much so welcomed ) even Alfred couldn't soothe his aching heart despite being the only person who felt genuine sympathy for him. Bruce was alone.

Taking in a shuddering gasp of air, Bruce sniffed loudly and blinked away tears. He was _not_ going to give the paparazzi hounds lurking in the crowds of well-known and wealthy people the satisfaction of finding him weeping his little eyes out like a toddler when it's already been practically an entire year since the incident. A pleasant ball room melody chimed lightly over the murmurs of conversation as he reached out to grab himself a piece of cake that was ever so neatly sliced into uniform squares.

"Goodness, dear, isn't he a doll? Just adorable!" A woman's shrill voice startled Bruce into dropping the small plate of cake back onto the table where it'd been seconds ago. His heart felt constricted; it raced with anxiety and nervous energy so suddenly Bruce wondered if he was experiencing a heart attack.

"Don't _patronize_ the child, Lauren." The woman's husband snorted with what seemed like a hint of annoyance.

"Oh I'm not! Don't assume me so crude Jack…" 'Lauren' paused, gazing down her nose at Bruce with a tart smile. "Sweet thing's obviously shy. Look at his trembling."

Jack reached over him with long, thinly arms to pluck the cake that Bruce had planned on eating himself, not even bothering to apologize for reaching over. Bruce scowled whole heartedly at the man.

"Lil' feisty, aren't you, kid?" Jack said around a mouthful of icing.

"Hush." Lauren fluidly bent over, placing her hands on her knees to peer more directly at Bruce. "You know… My daughter Lani's about your age. She's here if you want to meet her." She winked in an expecting way, motioning her head in the direction of a young girl with shoulder-length ginger hair. Both of her cheeks held a deep dimple that was pronounced by the way she was smiling and staring directly at him…

Staring directly at him. With beady, dark brown eyes that ate up any light that shone on them.

Bruce swallowed hard.

 _You fucking lunatic!_

"…No thank you, ma'am." He whispered to her, trying to shuffle away along the edge of the table to escape and find Alfred. "I don't really like her-"

"Nonsense! You're just too timid to approach her, aren't you?!" Lauren stood up straight again, turning on her heel to beckon over her daughter. "Don't worry, she doesn't bite!"

To Bruce's horror the girl happily obliged, skipping over to her mother's side, teetering excitedly back and forth on her heels breathing heavily. Should a window or door slam open right now Bruce would most likely pee himself with uncertainty and fear. Who was he kidding? These people saw straight through his weak shelled anger.

The man, Jack, had already left at some point in time, gone among the masses of party goers. Lani held out a hand to Bruce, exchanging a strange glance with her mother.

"It's very nice to meet you, Bruce Wayne." She rehearsed.

"…..You know me?" Bruce wondered out loud. He wasn't important. Merely a kid who inherited a mansion and horrible loneliness. Why would anyone go out of their way to act so formal towards him?

"'Course I do!" She barked. Her hand shook impatiently, as if to say 'shake my hand, you dimwit!'

Bruce did so, cringing internally. Lani's hand felt grimy and sweaty.

Abruptly, when Bruce was least expecting it, she gave a strong **tug** , pulling him out and into the fray. The other guests stopped what they were doing to watch them, cooing and 'aw'-ing over the display. Lani had Brue half stumbling, half _spinning around with her_ in some mock waltz, her head swiveling like an owl to drink in the attention. It was all too dizzily disorienting for Bruce. It was too much. He ripped himself away from her, pulling his hand free of her grip and shoving her in retaliation, causing her to reel backwards onto the ground with a sound 'thump', silencing the crowd. Fat tears hung in her face, her lower lip trembling.

Bruce felt small, standing there with adults scowling at him. Conversation sparked back to life like a wildfire, and it was all about _him_. About how rotten he was.

Lani's mother rushed to her side. "Damn, Wayne! What's wrong with you?!" Lauren spat.

He didn't say anything, opting to dash for the nearest bathroom and locking the door. It was pitch dark inside of the restroom, Bruce briefly noted, collapsing and burying his face into his drawn up knees.

 _What's wrong with you?_

 _You lunatic._

"…Master Bruce?" Alfred's refined voice beat against the door.

He only curled in on himself more as a result. If he squeezed his eyes shut tight enough, he could pretend he wasn't afraid of a bat lurking somewhere in the dark bathroom. If he shut out the noise enough, maybe he won't hear the echoing memory of gunshots in an alley way. If he digs his nails into his arms hard enough, perhaps he won't have to feel anything aside from the stinging pain.

It was purely wishful thinking on Bruce's part. He would have to go and apologize to Lani; Alfred wouldn't think very highly of him if he let the issue be.

Raising his head back up and away from his knees, Bruce stood up numbly, moving to look at himself in the mirror with what little light seeped in from under the door. He wasn't really crying, but Bruce knew his face would be red and puffy. The stale, sky blue orbs that reflected back at him looked incredibly bland, and his inky black hair was disheveled by earlier events.

Bruce promptly balled his fist and punched the mirror where his face had been. The entire panel of glass cracked and cut open his knuckles, leaving deep pits that filled up with crimson liquid.

 _Why did you have to do this to me…?_

The door swung open, temporarily blinding him as Alfred scurried over to him, fretfully inspecting the wounds. "Bruce! What on Earth is the matter…?" The older man pushed Bruce's chin up so they could make eye contact.

"Tell me… _please.._ Don't keep your issues from me, I'm here for you." Alfred paused. "You know that."

"I don't **have** issues!" Bruce screamed, stepping back while slapping away Alfred's hand. "Everyone else does! I wasn't the one that started **any** of this!"

The kindly butler quirked a greying brow, "From what I understand, you did start it, master Bruce…"

"Not _**that!**_ " Bruce huffed incredulously. "Just… everything. I didn't do anything bad, but I got bad for no good reason at all…."

"Bad things?"

Bruce nodded.

Alfred smiled languidly and pulled his ward close. "Listen to me, young master. Life is like a book. If you remain on one page of it forever, you'll never learn what wonders the rest of the story has waiting in store for you." He let Bruce shift into a more comfortable position, leaning tiredly against the man. "A lot has happened on that page of your life, hm? And I'm guessing you very dearly wish to rip every single page out- because it _hurts_ too badly to flip the next chapter…"

There was no response from Bruce, who was sniffling wetly and trembling.

"But I know, eventually… you'll be brave enough to move on and discover what lies beyond your misgivings. I know you can, Bruce."

Cameras flashed behind them, the press once again never failing to poke their noses where they weren't welcomed. A decent handful of the guests were outside the bathroom as well, whispering sentimental things and pointing at the two crouched on the floor.

"I know you will."

(( There! Hope it isn't too atrocious. It's not beta read or anything, so if there's something really off or there's a word used one-too many times, that's the reason. I've done my best to read over it myself, but… if you see a mistake feel free to point it out and I'll get it fixed as soon as I can. :) ))


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